FACTORY AIR

This story is dedicated to my father since it’s about him.

For most of my life, I didn’t know anyone who knew more about cars than my father. He used to own a front end alignment business in Flemington, NJ, and worked on every one that was brought to his shop. In his later years, we could be sitting around watching old B&W movies on TCM and he’d recognize the cars. “Oh, there’s a 1941 Buick!”

One of his favorite lines about those old cars was that, “Back then, you could order a car in any color you want as long as it’s black.”

In 1986, he bought a new Topaz from a local Mercury dealer. Of course, this being Florida and all, it had to come with air conditioning. Being that he knew a lot about cars, he took a look under the hood and noticed something that didn’t look quite right. “Is that factory air?”

The sales rep responded, “Of course it is.”

“Are you certain this is factory air?”

“I absolutely guarantee it. It’s factory air.

OK, he thought, so he bought it.

Years later - and out of warranty, of course – his factory air stopped working. Yes, they do get overworked in the Florida climate. He couldn’t fix it himself so he took it to one of his mechanic friends.

“This isn’t factory air conditioning. It’s after market.”

“You’re kidding! The dealer swore it was factory air.”

“Trust me, it’s not anything Ford ever made. I can’t fix it.”

That totally infuriated my father. He had a terrible temper to begin with, but when someone did it over cars; something he was quite knowledgeable about? Forget it! He tore out of there and headed straight to the dealer to give them more than just a piece of his mind.

Parked at the service department, he jumped out and approached one of the reps. “I need you to take a look under the hood and tell me what kind of air conditioner it is. My mechanic can’t fix it!” When in a fit of rage, my father was known to use language he didn’t learn in church. “When I bought this car, the salesman swore it was factory air. He lied to me!”

“No sir, he was telling you the truth,” the man replied.

“NO HE WASN’T!!!” And from there, I’m sure it escalated. “You’re nothing but a bunch of liars!”

“Sir, please come with me.” He led him to the parts department. Along the wall and stacked high were boxes and boxes that said it all. Printed in large, black, bold letters, was the brand name of the after market air conditioners that are installed by the dealer…

FACTORY AIR. Yes, the brand name was Factory Air.

“We’ll be more than happy to repair it for you.”

“No way!” and my father stormed out. Only the dealer carried parts.

While there’s nothing wrong with the brand, my father felt he was taken advantage of. Lied to. And he was. Because of his very stubborn German blood, he refused to let the dealer touch the car, so he drove it for years without air.

Personally, I had to agree with him. I think it was a very shady way to do business in the hot Florida sun.